Paul Prescott's Charge Read online

  XXXIII.

  PAUL REDEEMS HIS PLEDGE.

  Two years passed, unmarked by any incident of importance. Paulcontinued in Mr. Danforth's employment, giving, if possible, increasedsatisfaction. He was not only faithful, but exhibited a rare aptitudefor business, which made his services of great value to his employer.From time to time Mr. Danforth increased his salary, so that, thoughonly nineteen, he was now receiving twelve dollars per week, with theprospect of a speedy increase. But with his increasing salary, he didnot increase his expenses. He continued as economical as ever. He hadnot forgotten his father's dying injunction. He remained true to thecharge which he had taken upon himself, that of redeeming his father'smemory from reproach. This, at times subjected him to the imputationof meanness, but for this he cared little. He would not swerve from theline of duty which he had marked out.

  One evening as he was walking down Broadway with an acquaintance, EdwardHastings, who was employed in a counting-room near him, they pausedbefore a transparency in front of a hall brilliantly lighted.

  "The Hutchinsons are going to sing to-night, Paul," said Hastings. "Didyou ever hear them?"

  "No; but I have often wished to."

  "Then suppose we go in."

  "No, I believe not."

  "Why not. Paul? It seems to me you never go anywhere. You ought to amuseyourself now and then."

  "Some other time I will,--not now."

  "You are not required to be at home in the evening, are you?"

  "No."

  "Then why not come in now? It's only twenty-five cents."

  "To tell the truth, Ned, I am saving up my money for a particularpurpose; and until that is accomplished, I avoid all unnecessaryexpense."

  "Going to invest in a house in Fifth Avenue? When you do, I'll call.However, never mind the expense. I'll pay you in."

  "I'm much obliged to you, Ned, but I can't accept."

  "Why not?"

  "Because at present I can't afford to return the favor."

  "Never mind that."

  "But I do mind it. By-and-by I shall feel more free. Good-night, if youare going in."

  "Good-night, Paul."

  "He's a strange fellow," mused Hastings.

  "It's impossible to think him mean, and yet, it looks a great deal likeit. He spends nothing for dress or amusements. I do believe that I'vehad three coats since he's been wearing that old brown one. Yet, healways looks neat. I wonder what he's saving up his money for."

  Meanwhile Paul went home.

  The sexton and his wife looked the same as ever. Paul sometimes fanciedthat Uncle Hugh stooped a little more than he used to do; but his lifemoved on so placidly and evenly, that he grew old but slowly. AuntHester was the same good, kind, benevolent friend that she had alwaysbeen. No mother could have been more devoted to Paul. He felt that hehad much to be grateful for, in his chance meeting with this worthycouple.

  It was the first of January,--a clear, cold day. A pleasant fire burnedin the little stove. Mr. Cameron sat at one side, reading the eveningpaper; Mrs. Cameron at the other, knitting a stocking for Paul. A large,comfortable-looking cat was dozing tranquilly on the hearth-rug. Paul,who had been seated at the table, rose and lighted a candle.

  "Where are you going, Paul?" asked Aunt Hester.

  "Up-stairs for a moment."

  Paul speedily returned, bearing in his hand a small blue bank-book, withhis name on the cover.

  He took out his pencil and figured a few minutes.

  "Uncle Hugh," said he, looking up, "when I get a hundred dollars more, Ishall have enough to pay father's debt."

  "Principal and interest?"

  "Yes, principal and interest; reckoning the interest for a year tocome."

  "I did not suppose you had so much money, Paul. You must have been veryeconomical."

  "Yes, Uncle Hugh more so than I have wanted to be, oftentimes; butwhenever I have been tempted to spend a cent unnecessarily, I havealways called to mind my promise made to father on his deathbed, and Ihave denied myself."

  "You have done well, Paul. There are few who would have had theresolution to do as you have."

  "Oh yes, Uncle Hugh," said Paul, modestly, "I think there are a greatmany. I begin to feel repaid already. In a few months I shall be able topay up the whole debt."

  At this moment a knock was heard at the door. Mr. Cameron answered thesummons.

  "Does Mr. Paul Prescott live here?" inquired a boy.

  "Yes. Do you want to see him?"

  "Here is a letter for him. There is no answer."

  The messenger departed, leaving the letter in Mr. Cameron's hand.

  Somewhat surprised, he returned to the sitting-room and handed it toPaul.

  Paul opened it hastily, and discovered inclosed, a bank-note for onehundred dollars. It was accompanied with a note from his employer,stating that it was intended as a New Year's gift, but in the hurry ofbusiness, he had forgotten to give it to him during the day.

  Paul's face lighted up with joy.

  "Oh, Uncle Hugh!" he exclaimed, almost breathless with delight. "Don'tyou see that this will enable me to pay my debt at once?"

  "So it will, Paul. I wish you joy."

  "And my father's memory will be vindicated," said Paul, in a tone ofdeep satisfaction. "If he could only have lived to see this day!"

  A fortnight later, Paul obtained permission from his employer tobe absent from the office for a week. It was his purpose to visitCedarville and repay 'Squire Conant the debt due him: and then, to goacross the country to Wrenville, thirty miles distant, to see Aunt LucyLee. First, however, he ordered a new suit of a tailor, feeling a desireto appear to the best advantage on his return to the scene of his formerhumiliation. I must not omit to say that Paul was now a fine-lookingyoung fellow of nineteen, with a frank, manly face, that won favorwherever he went.

  In due course of time, he arrived at Cedarville, and found his waywithout difficulty to the house of 'Squire Conant.

  It was a large house, rather imposing in its exterior, being quite thefinest residence in the village.

  Paul went up the walk, and rang the bell.

  "Can I see 'Squire Conant?" he asked of the servant who answered thebell.

  "You'll find him in that room," said the girl, pointing to a door on theleft hand of the hall.

  "As he doesn't know me, perhaps you had better go before."

  The door was opened, and Paul found himself in the presence of hisfather's creditor. 'Squire Conant was looking pale and thin. He was justrecovering from a severe sickness.

  "I presume you don't recognize me, sir," said Paul.

  "Did I ever see you before?"

  "Yes, sir; my name is Paul Prescott."

  "Not the son of John Prescott?"

  "The same, sir. I believe my father died in your debt."

  "Yes. I lent him five hundred dollars, which he never repaid."

  "He tried to do so, sir. He had saved up a hundred and fifty dollarstowards it, but sickness came upon him, and he was obliged to use it."

  'Squire Conant's temper had been subdued by the long and dangerousillness through which he had passed. It had made him set a smaller valueon his earthly possessions, from which he might be separated at anymoment. When he answered Paul, it was in a manner which our hero did notexpect.

  "Never mind. I can afford to lose it. I have no doubt he did what hecould."

  "But I have come to pay it, sir," said Paul.

  "You!" exclaimed 'Squire Conant, in the greatest astonishment.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Where did you get the money?"

  "I earned it, sir."

  "But you are very young. How could you have earned so much?"

  Paul frankly told the story of his struggles; how for years he hadpractised a pinching economy, in order to redeem his father's memoryfrom reproach.

  'Squire Conant listened attentively.

  "You are a good boy," he said, at length.

  "Shall you have anything left after paying thi
s money?"

  "No, sir; but I shall soon earn more."

  "Still, you ought to have something to begin the world with. You shallpay me half the money, and I will cancel the note."

  "But, sir,----"

  "Not a word. I am satisfied, and that is enough. If I hadn't lent yourfather the money, I might have invested it with the rest, and lost all."

  'Squire Conant produced the note from a little trunk of papers, andhanded it to Paul, who paid him the amount which he had stipulated,expressing at the same time his gratitude for his unexpected generosity.

  "Never mind about thanks, my boy," said 'Squire Conant: "I am afraid Ihave loved money too well heretofore. I hope I am not too old to turnover a new leaf."